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“Everything is measuring beautifully,” the doctor announced as he continued to type into the machine, taking measurements and making sure my amniotic fluid levels were still good, all while taking a random picture every now and then. “Are you sure you want to know the sex?”
“I don’t like surprises,” I told him with a huff. “Yes, I want to know who has been kicking around in there.”
His eyes crinkled as he smiled down at me. “It appears that you are having a daughter.”
“Really?” I squealed, covering my mouth with my hand as tears spilled over my lashes. Happiness I didn’t completely understand was zinging through me.
I’d have been lying if I said I didn’t really care what the sex was. Part of me had been dreading it was a boy, though, and not because I dreamed of dressing a little girl in beautiful outfits and showing the world my perfect little princess.
After everything that had happened with Manuel when I was younger, and then having my heart broken by Garret, I had little faith in the male population. I trusted Guzman more than most men, but that wasn’t really saying much. I would have loved my baby if it was a son, but I wasn’t sure if I would—or even could—have loved him as much as I already loved my daughter.
Not that it really mattered. It wasn’t like I was going to be around to care one way or the other if it was a girl or boy, but at least now that I knew the baby was a girl, I could bond with her more before her birth.
“Really.” The doctor motioned to the monitor. “She seems to want her momma to know who she is as much as you do.”
“And you’re sure she’s okay?” I voiced my greatest worry. “I’m still spotting, and I’ve been cramping off and on.” More on than off, but I didn’t want to bring that up. I hadn’t shared with anyone, not even Nova, exactly how often the cramps happened.
But the doctor didn’t answer, and that bothered me, so I turned to the only person I trusted with my child’s life. “Nova, he’s not lying, is he? She’s okay, right?”
“Doctor?” Nova gritted out, wanting answers just as much as me when he continued to remain silent.
Without looking at either of us, he stood and began putting his things away. “The continued bleeding has not endangered the baby from what I can tell. However…” His shoulders slumped, but I knew what was coming, so I was prepared for it. “I fear you will need a full hysterectomy after you deliver. If we can get you to thirty-four weeks, I recommend you have a C-section and hysterectomy at the same time.”
His mentioning of a hysterectomy gave me pause, but I still needed answers. “Wh-why?”
“Between the accident you told me about and then the beating over several days that followed, your womb is barely strong enough to grow the baby as it is.” Again, nothing I didn’t know. Between the cramps and the bleeding, I knew even one wrong move could put me into labor, and at only sixteen weeks gestation, my little girl wouldn’t survive. But I hadn’t thought about a hysterectomy as an option.
Not that it gave me any hope of my own survival. Something like a hysterectomy couldn’t be done anywhere except in a hospital setting, and there was no way in hell I was leaving the walls that protected the mansion. Not alive or even dead. They could bury me on the property. It was where my mother and Matias were both buried. That way, Nova could bring my baby girl to visit our graves often.
“It is my opinion that carrying this baby to term will put your life in danger,” Ortega continued. “That is why I think delivering at thirty-four weeks will be better for both mother and child.”
“But why the hysterectomy?” Nova demanded, getting to her feet.
“I truly think there will be no other choice when it comes time. To be frank, with all the trauma that has struggled to heal, I fear she will need the hysterectomy or risk bleeding to death.” I wanted to laugh at his observations. He was only now voicing them, when I’d known that practically from the beginning. I could tell I wasn’t healing. That the bigger the baby got, more damage was only being added to what Manuel had already caused.
The doctor folded his arms in front of him, looking wary. “The closer she gets to the third trimester, the more danger she will be in as the baby grows and her uterus stretches more and more. It is still bruised even after all these weeks. Quite honestly, it is a miracle she hasn’t miscarried. By six months’ gestation, she will need to be admitted into the hospital for round-the-clock care.”
“No way.” I shook my head adamantly before he even finished speaking. “I’m not leaving my home again. I’ve told you, all of you, repeatedly. I won’t go.”
Nova bent to hug me, trying to calm me. The thought of leaving the property—hell, the mansion itself—was enough to make my heart start to race. “Cali, I know you’re afraid of what’s outside of the property gates, but your life is at risk from this.”
“I don’t care!” I shouted, finally giving voice to what I hadn’t told her or anyone else.
I didn’t care what happened to me. Maybe part of me even welcomed death. All I was concerned about was getting this baby far enough along that she would survive outside of my body. I clutched at Nova, my entire body shaking from the force I needed to put into my next words. “You can take care of the baby. I trust you to raise her right. But I’m not leaving this house, no matter what he says.”
Garret
The moment it hit me just how bad things were without Nova was when I realized that, between Ryan and me, I was the voice of reason.
It was an unnerving sensation. Ryan was always so in control, so in charge of things. He walked into a room, and everyone turned to look at him before taking a step back because the guy exuded so much power they felt a physical force that pushed them backward.
That was before he lost Nova, however.
Now, he was just a lifeless shell whose only goal was to try to feel. But the only thing that even came close to giving him some kind of sensation was pain. That blankness in his eyes changed the moment he stepped into the circle where the underground fights were held. His opponent would take his place, and a switch would flip within Ryan.
I saw it, and it made me feel physically sick.
Watching him take the hits, the smile that would ghost over his lips as blood covered his teeth. The bruises he had already accumulated and continued to add to. It was hard to stomach. Even more so when he finally decided he’d had enough of letting the other guy pound on him, and another switch flipped in his brain.
